


fire and ice

by justsomegoodtimes



Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: Angst, Drowning, Gun Violence, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Like LOTS of angst, Swearing, a minimal amount of fluff, all lowercase for the a e s t h e t i c, and curt starts working as ryan's mentor of sorts, and its cute, and they have this amazing mentor/mentee relationship, and yes he only does like a few plot things, and yes i gave him a full backstory, angst with a half happy ending, as a treat, but anyway thats not what this fic is about this is about a n g s t, but he is babey, but like only a little comfort, how many tags is too many tags?, i just think after all of this curt goes up to ryan and is fighting back tears to thank him, i want them to be happy but really i just like pain, im love them, its just cute okay?, mostly this is just sad, owen needs more whump fics, really more just being resigned to death, suicidal thinking i guess?, they help eachother and its pure, yes i made an agent specifically for this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:46:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26641660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justsomegoodtimes/pseuds/justsomegoodtimes
Summary: dvukh tsirkov, russia is one of the coldest inhabitable places on earth. maybe it also happens to be the location of a hidden technological facility, nobody comes up there anyway. maybe curt and owen are sent there to gather information. maybe, just maybe, the mission goes awry.
Relationships: Owen Carvour/Agent Curt Mega
Kudos: 19





	fire and ice

**Author's Note:**

> hey hi hello saf discord! tis cletus! thank y'all for being awesome and thank you venus especially for giving me the idea to post. be nice to yourselves!

owen walks calmly out of the facility, the plan is to meet curt outside by lake ilinery, and regroup from there. what he doesn't know is that curt is still trying to gather intel deep within the building, with a few russians who are starting to get suspicious. he's alone, left to his flimsy cover and his improvisation skills, which are slipping more and more every second. he's just about to salvage it when a certain well-meaning and concerned blonde scientist comes squeaking through his watch in what is very clearly english.   
  
"what's your 20 agent?! why did you turn off your tracker?!"   
  
he turns his watch off, but it's too late. well, barb always said his tracker would be his undoing.   
  
curt knows the procedure from here, it's what cynthia like to call "operation: fuck the operation." he reaches for his gun, but the russian guards are faster, and theirs are already pointed straight at him. he slides the gun back into his holster, hands raised in a peaceful (or at least, docile) gesture. they don't speak, instead locked in an infuriating stare down. he hates that, normally with situations like these he can use witty retorts, buy himself time, shake off the nerves a bit, but this... this is deadlier. this is more real, somehow. and the silence is deafening.   
  
one word comes from one of the guards, with a heavy russian accent. "alone?"   
  
\--------------------------------   
  
owen on the docks of lake ilinery, getting ~~worried~~ impatient. the minutes tick by. they agreed on 14:30, with a 15 minute margin of error. it's only 14:29, so he has 16 minutes before he's permitted to run back in there and try to find his boyfriend. still, he can't help but worry, curt usually makes quick work of missions like these.  
  
the clock is ticking. it's 14:41 and owen hasn't gotten any of the once a minute updates from curt. it's not unusual for curt not to send in a few in a row, but it's been far too many times for his taste, and he's about to screw policy and go in after him when a heavily accented voice comes up behind him.   
  
"agent carvour, i assume?"   
  
he whips around, drawing his gun immediately. he sees a burly looking man, who he assumes to be the speaker, and two other russians holding... curt. bruised and bloodied with his eyes glazed over.  
  
the russian man steps closer, owen thinks he smells of smoke and blood. _curt's_ blood.   
  
"i have a proposal agent. you see, we've just tested some of our newest technology on your... friend here. a truth serum. one of the most powerful the world has seen yet." he has the nerve to smile. "well... let's just say some aspects of your relationship have been revealed to us, agent carvour."   
  
owen's heart skips a beat. he feels like he's just blown up a building, that moment of free fall when the momentum of the explosion pushes you just a bit farther from that facility. that sudden drop in your stomach. that terrifying jolt of adrenaline. that fear. he tries to catch curt's eye, read his expression, hoping desperately that this is just one of those situations where curt secretly has the upper hand, but his boyfriend looks far off and distant. this is painfully real.   
  
"what do you want?"  
  
"well first off, i'll need that watch of yours. i understand it is communication device, da?"   
  
"i'm not giving y-"   
  
"may i remind you that we have your little friend? and believe me, _doll_ , truth serum isn't the scariest of our technologies here."   
  
like a ton of bricks, it hits him just how real this is. doll. _doll_. there's only one person in his life who ever cared enough about him to call him that, and he's looking worse every second. the word sounds wrong in this russian man's voice, like a violation. he takes his watch off, and hands it to the man towering before him. smirking, the man hands the watch back to one of the other russians, who crushes it under his boot without hesitation. that's it then, he's alone. completely and unbearibly.   
  
"good, glad to see you're compliant. now, here's my proposition: we know that he was the one sent to collect the major information, and we know that he saw nothing, so we're willing to let you go."  
  
owen almost lets himself believe it.

"one of you."

right. one of us. it's not a question of which, really. there's only one question coming to mind.

"how do i know you won't just kill him anyway?"

"fair enough," he barks something in russian to one of the men holding curt, who shakes him into the present, making owen want to scream at them for daring to touch him. "alright agent, how do you turn on your tracker?"

to owen's horror, curt mumbles a reply. his voice is rough and tired, as if he'd been screaming. "s'the little button on the side r'somthing."

the russian man turns on curt's tracker, then leans down closer to curt's face. "and how far away is backup?"

"20 minutes. my boyfriend's gonna kick your ass, heh." that comment earns him a slap to the face, which doesn't seem to even register. oh god, that's not a good sign. at best it means the cold has numbed his face, but curt seems entirely too loopy for that to be the case. does he really not recognize his voice?

"alright agent carvour, here's the deal, and i suggest you take it. in 19 minutes, if both of you are still alive, i shoot you both. if one of you is in that lake however, backup will get here just in time to save the other. i will be on that hill with a sniper, i suggest you keep your goodbyes quick." and with that, curt is thrown at owens feet, and they're alone together.

\--------------------------------

owen crouches in front of curt immediately, grabbing his hands and looking concernedly into his eyes. "curt darling, are you alright? how badly are you hurt?"

something seems to click in curt's brain and recognition and relief flash across his face, forming a weak smile. "'wen, re'you okay?"

that's a complicated question with a complicated answer, although he's more concerned that his words from before didn't seem to break through the haze of whatever drugs he's on at the moment.

"i'm... alright, love. are _you_ okay?"

"heh, not really. m'better with you though."

he checks curt's watch anxiously. 17 minutes left. 17 minutes more to be with the man he loves more than anything in the world. it's cruelly short. he feels a lump rising in his throat.

"i love you curt, you know that right?"

curt just nods, half falling over as he moves to rest his head on owen's shoulder.

"i love you too doll."

the minutes tick by far too fast. 16... 15... 13... 10... oh god 10 minutes left. owen prays barb has sent backup as quickly as she usually does. curt nestles himself closer to owen.

"s'really cold."

he nods, wrapping his arms around curt even tighter. maybe it's better this way, with curt not knowing what owen's about to do. maybe he'll never have to know the details of today. maybe it's better that he's too loopy to understand the weight of this situation. owen steals a glance to the water below them, freezing, and deep, and deadly. then to curt, with a soft smile across his face even with a bloodied lip. everything about curt is out of place here, he's warm and loving and perfect. the world is a freezing and barren place.

"try and keep warm, love."

\--------------------------------

1 minute left. he doesn't want to go, he really doesnt, but it's all he can do to keep curt safe. he deserves to be safe more than owen does anyway. he tilts curt's chin up with one hand, giving him one last kiss, taking that one last piece of warmth while he still can.

"i have to go now love, backup will be here any minute, alright?"

curt looks more confused than anything, and it shatters owen's heart like a crack in an iceberg, deep and sorrowful and magnificent. "where?"

he bites his lip. "not far. i love you curt."

"m'kay. i love you too."

owen gets up to walk a little ways from curt, his figure being enveloped into the blizzarding sea of white. best for curt not to see.

owen stares down at the lake below, only wishing for one thing. time. time to prepare himself, time to spend with curt, time to explain to him, time. sadly though, he's quickly running out. probably only 30 seconds or so. he wipes some of the tears from his eyes, realizing his last words will have been exactly as he always hoped.

he jumps.

he hits the water like cement, sending shockwaves throughout his entire body. the next thing he feels is the cold, deeper and sharper and more painful than any cold he's felt before. he longs for the warmth and safety that is curt mega. he wants so badly to be wrapped in his arms right now, feeling the steady drum of his heartbeat, rather than the painful pounding in his ears that he assumes to be his own. he takes a breath and the water fills his lungs, sending knives all throughout his ribcage. his vision begins to turn to black, and all he can feel is cold, alone, and terribly empty.

\--------------------------------

curt is cold. painfully so. he doesn't know where owen went, but he's going to wait for him until he comes back. that's what he'd do for curt, anyway. he'd stay safe and out of trouble in order to see him again, right? he sees some shapes approaching from the distance

he squints through the snow to see... "barb?"

"curt! christ, i'm so sorry i thought you were- where's agent carvour?"

"he... he'll be back, always is." he slurs, trying to clear his mind of whatever shit they gave him

"we'll send some people around to find him, get in the helicopter, okay? there's blankets and things inside."

he squints suspiciously, but stands shakily to get in the helicopter anyway. barb has to catch him when he almost falls, she seems very concerned, but it barely registers. all he wants right now is owen, that's all he can really focus on. he allows her to wrap him in blankets and hand him over to the medic for examination.

some time later, the helicopter lifts off with them having lost an a.s.s. agent out in the snow, and still not having found owen. curt's mind is starting to clear up a bit, and confusion is replaced with anger. anger that they clearly weren't looking hard enough, he's alive, of course he is. he has to be.

\--------------------------------

owen feels... something. someone. someone pulling him out of the cold, onto something even colder. he opens his eyes a crack to see what he would normally recognize as an a.s.s. uniform, but he can't register that right now. he rolls onto his side, coughing up ice cold water until he's filled with emptiness. cold, stinging, emptiness. he feels himself being lifted into someone's arms, he vaguely wonders if they're curt's. he hears some shouting, but he can't make out the words. the ringing in his ears is deafening, and he passes out again.

\--------------------------------

back at a.s.s. headquarters, the helicopter finally arrives, and curt is taken to the medical wing. physically, he's not in too rough shape, cuts and bruises and other forms of torture, but whatever truth serum they used has worn off by now. he stares at the wall, sitting in his bed and being uncharacteristically quiet. in fact, he hasn't said a word since speaking to the doctor on that helicopter. it's not numbness, really. more so an inner battle between denial and resignation.

\--------------------------------

agent ryan casey of the a.s.s. has always been, first and foremost, a protecter. to his mother, to his friends, and now to america. he's always been the one to step in between the good and the bad, and force the bad away, even at his own cost. so on only his second mission, a search and rescue, when he sees the figure of a man in the lake below, he didn't hesitate. he knew he had to protect. he leaves his coat on the rocks for now, diving in and dragging the man to the shore. he wonders vaguely if this is the agent he was looking for.

"jesus, are you okay? can you hear me?"

he coughs up water, more water than ryan would've thought possible. he carries him to dryer land, laying him down in the snow. he mumbles to himself, pressing a couple buttons on his watch. "okay uh- fuck, how do you work this thing?"

agent ryan casey has always been a protecter, and he's sure as hell not gonna stop now.

he tries a few more times to send for help, before giving up entirely. he really should've payed attention in that briefing, but he wasn't supposed to have to _use_ the emergency alert system, let alone on his second mission ever. he supposes he'll have to wait for this man, the i.d. badge in his pocket said that he was, indeed, agent carvour, to wake up. ryan wraps his coat tighter around agent carvour, checking his pulse and hoping to god he stays alive long enough to wake up.

owen is falling, faster and faster into the emptiness surrounding him. he needs warmth, more than he ever has. not just physically, he needs to be comforted, to be held, to sit by the fire that is curt mega and be melted just a little. he needs curt. his eyes open a crack, and pain shoots throughout his body. he sees the figure of someone next to him, and it takes him a moment to realize that it isn't the curt mega he so desperately needs. when he does, it breaks him just a bit more. "who...?"

"oh! you're awake, thank god, okay. i'm ry- agent casey." the person next to him looks young, early twenties at most. he takes a moment to register the a.s.s. uniform.

"charmed. where... where are we?"

"middle-of-nowhere russia. are you okay? you were drowning."

he keeps trying to make his eyes focus, they're still too blurry for his taste. "cold... is curt..?"

"agent mega? he's alright. back at headquarters by now, i expect. do you happen to know how to use the emergency alert system on the uh- the watches?"

"quite well, actually. let me see kid."

\--------------------------------

this isn't the first time curt has been abandoned, this dull throbbing ache is nothing new, in fact it's all too familiar. the betrayal, the heartache, the never ending sadness that runs so deep he doesn't think he can take it. it's all something he's known ever since that day when he was young, when he realized just how alone he really is.

what's new though, is the hope. the impossible wish that he might come back. that feeling that maybe, in some insane twist of events, owen could be alive.

every second that passes, he realizes more and more just how stupid it is to hope.

after some time, curt is in the medical wing waiting room, tapping his fingers on his knee anxiously. he had been admitted from his room about 10 minutes ago, seeing as his mind had cleared up completely. barb had said an alert went out from dvukh tsirkov, and whoever sent it would probably be sent here. god he hopes it's owen. he doesn't know if he can handle having this little spark of hope and it being for nothing. if owen doesn't come back... he's probably gone. the minutes tick by. 15:03, no owen. 15:04, no owen. 15:05, he hears a few voices coming from the entrance. oh god please let it be owen. please let him be okay...

owen. oh god it's owen. he stands up immediately, rushing to his side as he's being wheeled out on a stretcher. he stays by his side all the way to the hospital bed, and the second the doctors step away, he's holding his hand. it's freezing. he takes it in both of his, trying to warm it as best he can. the beeping of his heart monitor is slow, too slow, and his chest is barely rising and falling. curt just holds his hand. hopeless. hopelessness is filling his entire body, screaming at every fiber of his being to _do_ something. but he _can't._ he's watching the one thing he cares about more than anything slip through his fingers like water. he's trying to grasp onto anything he can, pull his boyfriend back into the present, wishing he cold hold him and comfort him and warm him and _help_ but he can't. he can't do anything and it's tearing him in two.

owen's eyes open a crack.

it takes a while, long enough for curt's concerned gaze to turn to worry (and if he's honest, fear), but owen finally stirs awake fully. when he sees curt, it's all he can do not to cry with relief. all he needs, all he's needed, is curt. when he speaks, his voice is scratchier than he'd like, and it hurts to move. "curt...?"

"yeah, it's me. you... you're safe." he runs a hand through owen's hair, trying not to cry. "wanna tell me what happened?"

his hand moves to his cheek, and owen leans into the warmth. "there was... there was a choice. i had to-" he cuts himself off with a sob, which turns quickly to a wince.

"a... a choice? i don't know what you mean baby."

"you or me. i... i picked you." curt is starting to piece it together, and he doesn't like what he's coming up with. he has more questions, but owen looks so weak, he isn't going to make him talk any longer than he wants to. especially if it's hurting him as much as it seems to be.

owen's fighting to keep his eyes open, and barely succeeding. "curt?"

"yeah owe?"

"it's so cold..."

without another word, curt climbs carefully into the bed with owen, barely caring who sees. he wraps his arms gingerly around his boyfriend, trying not to worry about how cold he is, or how slow the beeping of his heart monitor sounds. owen rests his head against curt's chest. he's all he needed. the warmth, the togetherness, the safety. god, safety is something he barely ever feels. he closes his eyes, he has all he's ever needed. he has curt.

and satisfied, he lets himself rest.

**Author's Note:**

> WOW that was angsty. i need some water


End file.
